This scene is a little graphic; reading a M rated story means you acknowledge that. This is my author's note and disclaimer; a rather graphic molestation and rape scene takes place.
Nazz led me to her room, and I followed blindly. To my right, as we passed an open archway, I think her parents were cleaning up dinner. The clatter of silverware and dishes rang as the dishwasher was loaded. Nazz quickly climbed the stairs, and I followed numbly with less gusto. I stumbled into her bedroom, and she closed it behind us. She yanked out her math book from her backpack and bounced onto her mattress. The book fell open before her as she lay on her stomach, her chin rested in one of her soft palms. I took in my surroundings; the walls were white, and various posters and pictures were hung. Boy bands I hadn't heard of, celebrities who meant little to me. The lamp on her desk cast a dim glow about the room. A few picture frames sat on her end table; a photo of her and Sarah in bikinis, Kevin kissing her on the cheek.
"Uh, Double D, you feeling okay?" I broke from my reverie, and returned my gaze to her. She appraised me with a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her ruby lips a slight frown. I shook myself and told her I indeed felt fine. I looked about nervously, looking for a chair or stool I could pull up beside her raised mattress. "Double D, it's ok," she giggled, her short blonde hair swirling as she shook her head with a grin. "Just get up here!" She scooted over, and I tentatively clamored up onto the mattress beside her. I kicked off my blue shoes, instantly worried that my red socks would have a foul stench. My hands grew sweaty, and I swallowed hard, shifting from my mind being nowhere near my body to suddenly aware of every inch of it.
I dove into the tutoring session, and the less I focused on Nazz's proximity and more on the equations and hypothesis', the more relaxed I grew. Nazz struggled with every property, theory, and equation that was asked of her. It was obvious to me why she needed to retake this test; I wondered if she had paid attention in any of the classes the past three weeks. Every time she came to a long in coming correct answer, she would smile up at me gleefully from where she was lying next to me.
I was in the middle of explaining a lengthy principle of a null hypothesis when Nazz's sigh cut me off. "Wow, Double D. You're sogood at this." I blinked, my brain resetting to the discussion and not the explanation.
"Thank you, Nazz," I said with a small smile. "Now, back to the hypothesis…"
"Honestly," she continued, rolling onto her back, "I just don't understand how you can understand all of it." Her white tank top slipped up, revealing the lowest section of her abdomen. Her tight, short jean skirt fell a little open, showing her inner upper thigh. I looked away from her, my nervousness slamming back into my consciousness like a brick wall.
"I-I just study a lot, I hope to be a doc- doctor someday," I choked, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. The mattress squeaked as she moved, and I suddenly felt her breath on my cheek. My head twitched back towards her, and her face was inches from mine.
"Wow, you're so motivated," she cooed, her ruby lips smiling secretively. "You're gonna' save lives." Her cleavage nearly popped out of her shirt, the white fabric trying to screen across her flesh. My eyes couldn't resist the urge to peek before looking back up are her brown eyes, framed with liner and mascara.
My heart raced with the possibilities of what she was insinuating. Her head rolled to the left, showing off the curvaceous and tempting plane of her neckline. Since I was in sixth grade, I'd wondered what this moment would be like. With whom, where. Sweat trailed from the edge of my hat down my spine, cold and causing me to shiver.
She kicked her leg around, straddling my hips. She leaned her weight on my shoulders, pushing me onto my back. My chest heaved with apprehension. "Nazz," I protested with a wavering voice. This was happening too fast. I wasn't ready. "Nazz, we aren't finished with the chapter yet."
"Oh, who cares about stupid statistics?" She sighed, stroking my cheek, her lips inches from mine. "We can work on it another night." She shifted, and her treacherous skirt rose around her hips, revealing black lace. She pressed her crotch against my hard member, and I whimpered with confusion and a growing fear.
Mistaking my whimper for a moan, her soft hands grabbed my wrists, her sharp nails pricking at my super sensitive skin. She placed my hands on her wide hips, her mouth smothering mine. I tried to say her name, but her tongue slipped through my teeth, worming its way into my mouth. My first kiss.
It was sloppy and hot, forceful and controlling. Her hands sneaked beneath her vagina and began to work open my zipper. This was too fast, too fast. "Nazz," I mumbled against her lipstick. She purred, glad I was saying her name as she slipped her hand down my briefs. I moaned; the first time another person had touched me.
Encouraged by my mistaken auditory cues, she worked her hand a little faster, and I wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't hurting me; there wasn't pain or dark alleys. But something, I wasn't sure what, held me down, made me swallow my words.
This wasn't right. This wasn't what I'd signed up for. I didn't want my first time like this.
Nazz shimmied her body down mine, working my pants and briefs down and around my ankles. She smirked sexily at me from further down the mattress, the weight of my head raised to look at her unbearable. There weren't any binds or chains holding me down but…her eyes kept me pinned to the mattress. Her crimson lips, peeled into a confident smile, strangled my vocal box. Her hand, slowly pumping on my penis, made me feel like I'd asked for it.
I should want this. I'd wanted to be Nazz's boyfriend since elementary school. She was the girl that all the guys wanted. I should be happy, no, overjoyed, to be chosen by her. I should be the happiest man on earth, and I should be ripping off her clothes and smothering every cubic centimeter of her skin with kisses and I should be burning up, begging for her to take off more of my clothes.
But I wasn't. I was frozen, filled with guilt and growing self-hate. Her mouth covered the tip of my sex, and I bucked with shock. Taking my fear for eagerness, she slid her moist throat down me. I wanted to tell her to stop, to slow down, that I wasn't ready. I couldn't explain why, but this…this wasn't what I wanted.
"Nazz," I gasped, trying to work through the invisible noose around my neck. Her mouth slunk from my length as her hand pumped faster, as she smirked up at me, dominating and proud.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice husky. "Yes, say my name." I swallowed, the disgust boiling in my stomach.
"Nazz…" I tried again, trying to rouse my limbs, which were lead and heavy. "Nazz, please…"
"Yes!" she growled heatedly, victory in her irises. "Beg for it." My fingers twitched, finally coming back to life. With all the effort I could muster, I lifted my small hands, and placed them on her shoulders, trying to push her away weakly.
Mistaking my attempt to stop her as a gesture of encouragement, she sunk her mouth back over my erection, working at it hungrily. The pleasure made me want to vomit; the pleasing image of her sucking me off made me hate myself, made me feel guilty. "Nazz, stop, pelase," I breathed, trying to push her away.
"Don't play coy," she warbled around my cock. Her hand slapped my palms off of her shoulders. One of my hands fell heavily onto the corner of her math book, and my knuckle throbbed with the impact.
Her parents were downstairs. I could shout, call for help. Why wasn't I screaming!? What was wrong with me!? This was the hottest girl in school! Any other guy would be happy to be here.
I pushed against her, harder, more commanding. "Nazz, stop." She winked at me.
"I never thought you'd be the one to like it rough," she replied sassily. "You can pull my hair if you want." This wasn't roll playing! How could she not understand?
"Nazz, I want you to stop," I said, my voice so, so weak. She nodded, and I was relieved that she was stopping. I took a single, relieved breath, when she was suddenly ripping her panties down her legs.
"You're right, foreplay isn't all that fun," she huffed, beginning to straddle me.
"No, Nazz, wait," I cried. She lowered her vagina down, and her weight and damn gravity pulled her onto me. She sighed as I sheathed inside her, and began to work herself rhythmically, her mouth a satisfied "o" and her eyes shut in physical satisfaction. The pleasure was sinfully good, and I couldn't control my body. It felt so incredibly good and I hated it. Hated myself. This shouldn't be happening.
"Nazz…" Her name, repeating as a broken record in my throat, wisped from my lips. Her eyes opened and she grinned at me. Her eyes suddenly lost their hazy film. They focused in on me, zeroing in with intensity. Her hips stopped moving, my penis still inside her as she leaned forward. She scraped her nail against my cheek. A single tear came away with her hand, magnifying her thumb print.
Nazz blinked rapidly, her mind beginning to clear the horny fog. Her head whipped left and right, taking in her surroundings, and finally her gaze met mine again. It was watery with regret and unspoken apologies. "Oh, Edward," she whispered sadly.
I hated how my name, my real name, sounded on her voice; it made me nauseous. I wanted to take my name and light it on fire, burnt and forgotten, no longer a weapon to be used against me. I hate how her voice curled around it, yet another unwanted caress. She slipped off of me, my penis making a revolting, slick sound as she slid her genitals off of mine. I sat up slowly, weakly, unable to run away fast enough. "Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry," she croaked, pulling her legs to herself and hugging them.
"Don't say my name," I choked, my voice cracking. I pulled my briefs and boxers up as fast as I could manage, my hands slipping multiple times and causing me to slow down.
"Double D, I didn't… I mean… I thought…" her words tumbled into the chilly evening air, meaningless and dead. Her sputtered excuses fell from her mouth and landed heavily on the mattress between us, made of lead.
"I said stop," I sobbed, more tears coming out. I took my notes and shoved them messily into my book bag that sat against her bed post. My phone shined from the bottom; a text message from my mother asked when I was supposed to be home, if I wanted to invite Nazz to dinner the next evening. I could have called for help.
"Double D, please, wait… let's talk-" I stumbled out of her bedroom, and the hallway light was blinding, bringing reality to my senses. I left the door half open, and the last I saw of Nazz was her eyes filled with guilt and confusion, her skirt still crumpled about her belly, her vagina still revealed.
I charged down the stairs, thundering away. Nazz's mother stuck her head out of the kitchen.
"Leaving so soon are you? It's only been an hour, did you get a lot done?" I looked at Nazz's mother without seeing, ready to expose what had happened.
"Everything went well, she's very smart." That wasn't what I wanted to say! Why wasn't I telling the truth? The faceless woman nodded, telling me to come to their home any day, I seemed like a good boy. I stumbled out the front door, closed it behind me, and shuffled home. I ignored my mother and father in the living room; both were home, a rare occasion. They asked me how things went and I wordlessly retreated to my room. I threw my bag onto the floor, the books spilling onto the floor messily in an absolutely pristine room. I dashed to the bathroom and locked the door.
I opened the shower valve, and the water began to pour from above as I ripped off my clothes. I stared at my reflection in the mirror; the white light, the plain white walls, the white towels, were all sterile and uncaring to my plight. Slowly, with trembling hands, I tore off my hat. The scars and dents on my scalp seemed highlighted beneath the judgmental lighting. I climbed into the shower, and the tears broke through the dam withholding them.
I curled up on the shower floor, my tears mixing with the painfully hot water. My body quaked with the force of my gasping sadness. I hated myself; I hated everything.
This was my fault. I could've screamed. I could've pushed her harder. I could've fought. I let it happen. I must've wanted it. I was rubbish. I was worthless. I let it happen. I let it happen. It was my fault.
After an hour of boiling myself and trying to scrub off her scent and the feeling of her hands and skin on mine, I crawled into bed. I fell asleep fitfully with silent tears. I finally fell into the sweet embrace of sleep, only to dream of her on me, around me, forcing me all over again.
